28 September 2014

Time
passes quickly in Kathmandu. I was there but three days but they were long
ones.

I am
now back on the Island.

Singapore.

Blink.

Nepal.

Gone.

The
day starts early in Nepal. In the mountain villages farmers are up and about
before the sun rises and in the city there is also a lot of hustle and bustle
before dawn.

My
brother and I stayed where we normally stay - in Lalitpur. It is is where the
Guru Rinpoche resides and it is a casual five-minute stroll from Patan Durba. There
are two very nice English filmmakers with us who have come to Nepal with us
before.

To
film.

Their
names are Marcus and Zara.

Patan
Durba is one of our favourite Nepalese ancient places. It is a complex of more
than fifty temples and the same number of gardens.

Most
of the big temples in Patan were built in the early 1600’s but there are a few
that have survived more than a thousand years.

They
are all spectacular.

They
really are.

Patan
was built as a palace for a Nepali Prince a thousand years ago and it is
constructed around three huge courtyards the Nepalese call ‘Chowks’.The most spectacular and famous of temples in
Patan is the Krishna Mandir. It stands three stories tall on twenty-one golden
pillars. It was re-built and added on to by a very visionary King named
Siddhinarasimh Malla in 1637. King Malla was a cashed up royal who loved to
build temples and monasteries and much of what remains in Patan was done under
his rule.

In his
lifetime King malla went on a devotional building frenzy.

The
Hindu Nepalese teach that one night the King saw two of the major gods -
Krishna and Radha - standing in front of a royal palace on an empty piece of
land.The next day he ordered the
Krishna Mandir temple to be built on the same spot.

Hinduism
is said to arguably be the oldest religion still in existence.

So I
have been told.

I
wouldn’t argue about it though.

I
don’t really know

There
are allegedly more than 33 million Hindu gods and goddesses – including all the
demi-gods.

They have
them for everything.

However
Krishna and Radha are very high on the pecking order.

Look
it up yourself if you doubt me or just look it up for the crack.

The stories
of the Hindu deities are fascinating.

There
are thousands of carvings on stone and wooden panels and pillars throughout the
three stories of the temple. They are simply breathtaking in their intricacy
and artisanship. Monks - who were also seriously talented master craftsmen and
artists - did the carvings and it took some decades.

It was
their life’s work.

My
brother and I love the Krishna Mandir temple for its architectural splendor and
its story and the fact that is held so sacred to both Hindu and Buddhist
Nepali. It is a serene and peaceful place. Even though it is dedicated to two
of the big Hindu deities, the third level was constructed to Lokeshwor – which
is the Hindu name for the Lord Buddha.

There
is a strange interweaving of the Hindu and Buddhist faith – in India - but
moreso in Nepal.

Many
temples accommodate both.

Buddhism
emerged from Hindu at some point long ago.

The
Lord Buddha is recorded as being born in Nepal and dying in India. He was born
in a village called Lumbini. There is an ancient and splendid Bodhi tree where
Buddha is said to have sat. It is taught that he was born as a full grown child
and in the first seven steps that he took lotus flower instantly bloomed.

I find
that vision quite beautiful.

The
number seven and the lotus flower are important in the Buddhist faith. Lots of
numbers are actually significant in Buddhism.

My
favourite is six.

There
are six Paramitas or Perfections in
Buddhism. These are generosity, morality, patience, effort, meditation and
insight.

Nice
huh?

Six
also refers to the “Six Realms of Rebirth” which refers to reincarnation and
the path to enlightenment - ranging from gods to hell denizens.

The
history of the faiths and the teachings of Buddha and many of the stories of
the Hindu deities are amazing and blazing and colorful stories.

They
are wonderful reading.

I will
delve no deeper into them nor discuss them any further here and now though.

Read
them yourself.

See
them yourself.

I am
not fucking Wikipedia.

Suffice
to say - when we are in Kathmandu - my brother Richard and I like to walk down to
Patan Durba before day breaks. We sit in a small street stall café in the Mul
Chowk at a table nestled under cover of a cluster of frangipani trees. The
street café is adjacent to the Krishna Mandir temple.

The delicious
perfume scent of the flowers hangs heavy in the air.

We
drink sweet hot syrupy masala tea bought from the tea dude for a few rupees. He
pours the cups for us from a huge battered antique pot and he serves us with
great extravagance and class and ceremony.

He
pours with flair.

We sip
our tea as we hear the clangs of ancient temple bells and monks from one of the
monasteries chanting the hypnotic mantra “Om
Mani Padme Hum”.

We sit
there and listen and take in all the serenity and tranquility and pleasantry of
the place and the moment until the sun full rises.

Life
doesn’t serve up such moments very often and we need to seek them out then
snatch them up.

We
need to immerse ourselves and relish in them.

It is also
not a bad way to start the day.

It is
brilliant.

Most
of the three days that I was in Kathmandu was spent at the Snowland School. It
is the school we support that accommodates children from the very remote Upper
Dolpo region of Nepal. The upper Dolpo is one of the most remote places on
earth and it borders Tibet in the far west of the Himalaya ranges. Some of
villages are very high in the mountains on the border with Tibet and it can
take three weeks of hard travel to get down to Kathmandu.

Yes
three weeks.

I am
serious.

Travel
in the upper Dolpo is mostly walking. Steep walking and climbing in some parts.
There are no roads. There is no electricity or Internet or much of anything. Little
grows in the rocky soil. Opportunity is drowned in the upper Dolpo by the daily
struggle just to survive.

The
people are sustenance farmers.

Most
are refugees from Tibet who were forced to flee for their lives when the
Chinese invaded Tibet.

They
occupy it still.

Fuckers.

A holy
lama named Guru Rinpoche - who is the fifth reincarnation of a very revered
Buddhist Master - sponsors the Snowland School. He is a healer and a holy man
and a now old friend of mine. He set up the Snowland School about twelve years
ago solely to provide opportunity through education to the children of the
upper Dolpo.

The
Guru’s Monastery in the upper Dolpo is in a place called Shey Gompa. Monks
carved the Monastery into the side of a mountain more than a thousand years ago
and it is very far away from anywhere. Westerners call Shey Gompa the Crystal
Mountain. There are a few very old Tibetan Buddhist temples up there.

I haven’t
been there yet.

I have
only seen pictures and film.

But I
will.

Go
there.

Guru
Rinpoche believes that building more schools up in the upper Dolpo would be
ideal as there are so very few at present. However he also believes that until
more schools and infrastructure is built - bringing the children of the region
to Kathmandu for an education is the best thing to do at the moment. He in fact
he believes it is the children of the upper Dolpa’s only hope.

So too
do I.

Rinpoche
believes he has a spiritual responsibility to provide such an opportunity to
the children of the Upper Dolpo.

He is
their guru.

They
are his people.

The
village elders and the parents and the Guru choose these kids - and they come
down to the Snowland School when they are five or six years old. Very few
return for at least ten years.

Some
never return.

For
the past couple of years we have sent kids that finish year 10 back to their
villages for the three-month break they have when they complete their final
exams and before they start year 11.

Ten
years away from home.

Can
you imagine it?

When
they go home, most of the kids have new siblings they have never met. Many have
had a parent and many aunts and uncles and cousins that have died. Life is very
harsh and mortality rates are high in the Upper Dolpo. Diseases like TB and
pneumonia are common.

Yes
Tuberculosis. TB. So long ago made preventable though global vaccination but it
remains prevalent and deadly in Nepal.

Many
communities are so remote that the preventative medicine programs taken for
granted in first and even most third world countries simply do not exist.

I am
not making any of this up.

It is
serious shit and has been publically reported many times.

Google
it.

The
reunions between Snowland child and their home villages and families are highly
emotional and poignant. We have been doing the ‘Going Home’ program for three
years now and we have now seen this first hand and have talked to the kids and
their families about it. It is a beautiful and harrowing and hopeful story.

We
think it is one worth telling and is best seen rather than be just written
about.

So we
are telling it.

Though
film.

Which
is why I was in Nepal for such a quick trip. My brother and the English
filmmakers were there longer than me and they were in a filming frenzy. They
did fifteen or sixteen hours of filming every day with a legion of enthusiastic
volunteers holding booms and taking stills and doing other technical stuff.

They
loved it.

A
couple of the older girls Googled the film dudes Marcus and Zara and discovered
they were award winning and famous. Word spread quickly and they were idolized
the entire stay.

It was
very funny.

A lot
of current Snowland kids were interviewed on and off camera - as well as some
of the kids who went home to their villages earlier this year. My brother went
with six of them. A lot of their stories were told. They were asked what
villages they had come from and how far and hard was the journey, and what it
was like being back after ten years.

What
were their plans for the future?

That
sort of stuff.

Some
of them were quite shy on camera but others were like any other teenager in the
world. They were cheeky and funny and had different personalities.

Some
were hysterical.

The
filmmakers were helped out by a couple of past Snowland students but mostly by
a boy named Gylatsen. He graduated from Snowland three years ago and since went
on to get his A levels in year 11 and 12. He passed all the examinations and qualified
to study medicine in Kathmandu University a couple of weeks ago and he will be
the first doctor to have come from the upper Dolpo region.

We are
very proud of him.

I had
several formal and informal meetings with the guru Rinpoche. He only speaks a
little English and I speak no Nepali but we seem to communicate all right even
when we don’t have an interpreter present. Guru is a master of Tummo healing.
It is a form of Buddhist meditation breathing force stuff – and literally means
‘inner fire’.

I have
had chronic migraine headaches for years and the Guru gave me a couple of
treatments of Tummo. It was very painful and intense pressure on my neck and
shoulder and the pain has diminished.

I have
taken much less of the strong western medicine I usually have to take for the pain since my treatments.

We
will see if the pain returns.

There
are currently one hundred and thirty six children at the Snowland School
ranging in age from seven to seventeen.

They
are all brilliant.

Whenever
I return to Snowland there are always new children and despite what the
majority of people would consider squalor – they are the fortunate ones. Their
parents sacrificed them for a crack at an education in what must have been an
agonizing decision. Recent returnees told us that despite the joy of reunion
with their families and their villages in the mountains there was difficulty in
coping with the return home.

A few
did not recognise their parents.

Most
of the kids who returned had forgotten the mountain dialect that was spoken and
all were shocked at the conditions they had been born into. There was no
Internet or plumbing or in some instances food in their villages. There was no
electricity and no-one bathed or changed clothes for months and they often
slept under the same roof with the animals in the winter.

The
upper Dolpo was as it has been for the past one thousand years.

High

Harsh.

Their
villages were a long way from anything.

Some
of the kids told us they remembered snippets of their very young lives in the
village. Aged five or six. Before they went to Snowland. All remembered the very
long journey they made when they were little. They told us that they mostly
remembered that they were very scared.

They
must have been terrified.

The
walk home was physically exceptionally difficult for the Year ten kids that
went home in April as well. Living in the city had softened all of the Year 10
kids and some suffered altitude sickness on the journey home. A tiny but
beautiful girl named Karma told us how she walked for two days through thigh
deep snow on the last leg of her journey to her village - and she thought she
might have suffered frostbite.

But
she didn’t.

Thank
goodness.

This
is real “Lost Horizons” shit but without the paradise in the hidden valley.

Just a
lot of snow and ice where the air is thin and there are clusters of wooden huts
in tiny isolated little valleys. The kids told us that dung was burnt as fuel
for cooking and heating and the smoke from the fires were heavy acrid.

They
told us that the odour hung on them.

One of
the boys told us his older brother and his friends laughed at him and hit him
with a stick for not being able to keep up the pace when walking between
villages.

Most
of the kids told us that they could tell that their parents were satisfied with
the sacrifice they had made - and they themselves appreciated the lives they
had a greater appreciation of Kathmandu after their visit home. They seemed
more determined than ever to finish school and go on to university if they
could.

The
question of pride and the worth of the sacrifice was a difficult one for us to
ask of the children- and I think more
difficult and possibly awkward for the kids to answer. “Going Home” was not
necessarily a happy story but it was an enlightening one.

For
parents and children.

It is
something of a learning that the Lord Buddha would have likely approved.

My
brother said he saw evidence of enormous pride of the mothers and fathers that
he met. The Nepal mountain people are not visibly emotional people but my
brother and Sylar said they saw twinkles in a few eyes.

The
Dolpo parents saw that their children were educated and well-fed and they had
been looked after as promised by the Guru Rinpoche.

Richard
thought that the twinkle he saw in the parent’s eye was definitely pride but it
was also an acknowledgement and relief that their kids now had an opportunity.

They
had a future and a way out.

All
the young children from surrounding villages came to visit the Snowland children.
They wanted to hear the wondrous tales of life in the faraway city of temples with
their guru - and to see for themselves the phones with cameras and the pictures
of their lives in the school.

We
weren’t really surprised that most of the kids who returned spent time in the
home village schools.

Teaching.

They
are all good kids who know the importance of learning and teaching.

These
village schools are one-room buildings manned by local volunteers to teach very
small children the beginnings of reading and writing and the teachings of the
Lord Buddha. Beyond the age of six or seven though there are no schools or
teachers in the upper Dolpo region.

There
are none at all.

Other
relatives visited too.

The
Snowland kids were paraded.

I left
my brother and the filmmakers mostly to it for I know little of such things. I
had some good long discussions with the Guru and the teachers and the kids of
Snowland and I went with the Lama to look at a potential new facility he is
apparently in negotiations to lease or buy. One of Rinpoche’s advisors told me
that we had to look at it in secret though for if the owners saw me they would
demand more money.

So we
went before dawn.

The
School has been looking for bigger and better premises for years now – ever
since I first met them in fact. The current buildings are falling apart and it
is very crowded and has poor sewage and limited water.

I have
looked at quite a few other options.

Things
move very slowly though in Nepal.

There
is a lot of red tape involved.

Things
move very slowly indeed.

As is
usual I wished I had spent more time with the children for they are the
Snowland School and the most precious aspect of the whole program. I love to
sit and yack with the older kids who are preparing for exams and are making plans
for what they want to do when they grow up. I also love to play with the little
ones who have only been away from their villages for a short while.

- And
all the ones in between.

They
are delightful.

Time
flies.

When I
leave I bring home beautiful letters and drawings and email addresses which I
treasure and display in my home. When my kids were little they both drew lots
of pictures and we always stuck them up on walls with blue tack and under colourful
little magnets that stuck things to the fridge. I do this with my Nepalese
pictures from the kids.

You
know what I mean.

Some
of the letters I receive are as heart breaking as they are touching. My brother
Richard gets them too. On this visit I received a gorgeously coloured and
neatly written note from a little girl called Kalpana Budha. She is in year six
and is a girl scout and she is eleven years old.

Here
it is:

It
says:

For my respected godfather Peter

Hi!

It is me the student of scout class
Kalpana Budha. I really really feel good to see you. You are so kind hearted
person I ever met before. Do you know scout. You like scout? I will introduce
myself.

My name is Kalpana Budha. I study in
class 6. I am the first student in class 6. I have 6 family members including
you as my father. My best color is blue. My aim is to be a helpful doctor. But
you know in Nepal its very difficult to become doctor because we have to pay
many and many money to become doctor but I should try my best for it. I like to
read science books. I would ask some questions to you on father?

1.When
is your birthday?

2.Which
is your best colour?

3.Are
you come from Australia and can me give you your email address?

4.Do
you like to visit Nepal?

5.Do
you feel nice to meet me and can you give me your photo?

6.Do
you want to make me your daughter and can you be my father?

I had a very special place for you in my
heart

Kalpana Budha J

Nice
but sad huh?

There
is hope and happiness in Kalpana’s words and the brightness of these children
dazzle me.

It
really does.

I am
about to write back to Kalpana now. I will tell her that to study medicine in
Nepal or in neighboring India or Bangladesh she has to study very hard and pass
special qualifying examinations but I wont tell her that to medical degree
costs about US$30,000 over five years.

That
is a lot of money to anyone but it is beyond comprehension to most Nepalese.

According
to the World Bank the annual average income is US$780.

It is however
very cheap for a medical degree by world standards though and it is loose
change to big international companies and collectives of middle class
westerners.

I will
tell Kalpana she should try and live her dreams and to look at Gylatsen – a
young man from a village not too far from her own. He also dreamed of being a
doctor when he was Kalpana’s age – and he has now done the all the hard work
and has qualified for medicine and the kindness of others who have plenty will
ensure that all his fees are paid.

I will also tell Kalpana as I have told some other kids that I consider myself
to be a godfather or uncle to all of the children of the Snowland and my
friends and I will help look after her and to get an education so she can do
whatever she dreams. I will tell her my son Tom will be back in December and my
daughter Charlotte will go to Snowland in the New Year and they are like the
like big brothers and sisters to all of the children at Snowland. She will meet for herself all the volunteers my friend Jessie organizes to go over to the
school several times a year. There are nearly twenty going over in a few weeks.

I
will also tell Kalpana that she has a very special place in my heart too.

22 September 2014

I am very tired
but of course when I arrived here I couldn’t sleep. Those two and a half hours
that were ripped from me in the twilight zone of time changes has hit me hard.

As we all know the
international time zones somehow mysteriously change at certain places – except
India of course. Whilst several time zones cross this enormous continent the
Indian government has chosen to ignore them. So no matter where you are in
India it is always the same time.

India is a very
confusing country at the best of times but they seem to have got this one
right.

I like the India
brazen disregard for International Time.

I like it a lot.

Hard travel ruins
my sleep patterns and sleep has always been mine enemy. I have spent much of
today in cars and in meetings. I drove all over Delhi looking at broken
buildings and potential offices. Then I dashed to meet some corrupt officials.

There is a fine
line between government and gangster here.

I love it

I really do.

Anyway - it has
been a long day.

We are in a
building frenzy in India.

Business here is
booming.

I am staying at
the Oberoi hotel in the heart of New Delhi. I have stayed here several times
before and it is very nice. The rooms are opulent and the hotel is grandiose.
It is British Colonial in style and is set in beautifully manicured lush green
gardens.

It is tranquil.

It is peaceful.

The hotel is
within walking distance of many international consulates. New Delhi is the
political capital of India. There are politicians and diplomats everywhere
around here.

There is some sort
of political conference going on here at the hotel.

When I checked in
late last night there were a couple of dozen of them with large Security and
Identity cards hanging on lanyards around their necks. I heard snatches of
conversations in accents of Americans and Italians and Germans. The English are
also amongst their throng.

They usually are.

The consulates
were in the Lobby Bar. I was at the check in desk when I first heard them – and
then saw them.

They were making a
ruckus but they sounded like they were having a good time. They were hurling down
tall gins and tonic like there was no tomorrow. They looked like they had been
doing it for a while.

All payed for I
imagine by we taxpayers of the world.

One German
diplomat staggered over to me as I was walking to the lift and he shouted
something guttural, drunken and Germanic at me. I was tired and in no mood for
such shenanigans so I was compelled to tell him to back off.

Actually I think I
told him to “foch off”.

He took a step
towards me and muttered some more Germanic stuff - and I warned him that one
more step and I would be forced to set him on fire.

He thankfully
lurched off - for I had no matches on me and it can be quite difficult to
ignite drunken Germans.

Oberoi is a very
prominent surname in the Khastri caste of India. The name is Punjabi. The
Punjab district is in the northern part of India.

When India and
Pakistan became independent of each other the Oberoi people of the Khastri
caste moved to India. They are however originally from what is now Pakistan.
The Oberoi family is large and powerful and their name is revered across India.

The caste system
of India is Hindi in origin. It has been around a very long time. At a very
basic level it means that you are born into an occupation or serving. If your
father were a laundryman - or a ghaut - then you would be too. The educated and
wealthy begat their own as too did the impoverished.

Ne'er the twain
would meet.

The caste system
is based on the concept of four varnas. These varnas order and rank spirituality in a hierarchy that supposedly
reflects spiritual purity.

The Brahmins are
at the top of the tree.

The lowest are the
Untouchables.

These are the
often homeless and very impoverished of India. The caste system is rapidly
breaking down in modern India with the government enacting significant and
prolonged reforms. An Act of Parliament changed the constitution to prevent the
use of the term "Untouchable" and replaced it instead with the word
"Dalit".

“Dalit" translates to the "Crushed
People".

Despite the
reforms it is estimated that the Dalit currently make up about fifteen percent
of the population of India.

That is about one
hundred and fifty million crushed people.

That is a lot of
poor souls.

The Khastri caste
of people of which the Oberoi are a prominent part are right up there near the
Brahmins. They are high caste and are associated as being the keepers of the
Dharma.

The Dharma is an
ancient Sanskrit law that basically is believed by Hindis to hold the Universe
together. It is the "Root dhri" which means "That
which upholds and supports the regulatory order of the universe ...... without
which nothing can stand". "Root Dhiri" is stability
and harmony.